


Make Me Feel

by sailingonstardust



Series: All About Us [2]
Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Kiss, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, POV Alternating, Power Bottom Lando, Topping from the Bottom, dom lando, hando - Freeform, hanlando, it gets sweet at the end because apparently thats the only thing i can write, solorissian, sub han, why tf does this ship have so many names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingonstardust/pseuds/sailingonstardust
Summary: What Lando cares about is the way hookah smoke intoxicatingly fills the dark space, how the liquor he and Han have been downing makes his head spin. What Lando cares about is the throbbing bass echoing through the club, reverberating through his body and making his heart beat faster. What Lando cares about are the strobe lights flickering enough to show teasing glimpses of the lines of Han’s back as he moves. And what Landoreallycares about is the feeling of Han’s fingers on his chest, his hips, the way Han’s straddling his legs in this rusty metal chair, the sensation of their half-hard erections rubbing together, andoh, kriff.Alternatively, my draft description was:Han was amazed to discover that when Lando was saying "I never top," what he meant was, "I'm a power bottom."





	Make Me Feel

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Proving It, but it can be understood without reading part 1 first.

So maybe Lando was bluffing a bit when he said he knows a guy who owns a club in Salis D’aar. He _does_ know a guy, but they’re not exactly on _hey-give-me-a-discount-on-some-drinks_ terms. They’re not even on face-to-face terms, really—not after Lando cheated the guy out of a ten-thousand credit deal and took the money for himself.

Now, Lando and Han are sat in two chairs in the far corner of the club, back where even seedier deals than the ones they pull go on, in an attempt to hide from said owner. Chewbacca is long gone, probably off losing some game and then pulling someone’s arms off for it; Lando doesn’t really care.

What Lando cares about is the way hookah smoke intoxicatingly fills the dark space, how the liquor he and Han have been downing makes his head spin. What Lando cares about is the throbbing bass echoing through the club, reverberating through his body and making his heart beat faster. What Lando cares about are the strobe lights flickering enough to show teasing glimpses of the lines of Han’s back as he moves. And what Lando _really_ cares about is the feeling of Han’s fingers on his chest, his hips, the way Han’s straddling his legs in this rusty metal chair, the sensation of their half-hard erections rubbing together, and _oh, kriff_.

Han’s sloppily marking a bruise on Lando’s collarbone when Lando murmurs into his ear, “Let’s take this back to the Falcon?”

Han nods and moves to try to stand, but ends up swaying and catching himself on Lando’s caped shoulder. Together they stumble onto crowded streets to where the Falcon is parked in a warehouse, a couple blocks from the bar. They mostly-good-naturedly slander each other the whole way; Lando thinks it’s a bit of a miracle that they make it to the ship no worse for wear. As soon as the ramp is closed behind them they collapse onto the couch in the lounge.

Almost immediately, Lando feels Han’s mouth on his ear. Lando shivers as Han’s tongue traces the shell of his ear, as he takes his earlobe between his teeth, and tugs.

“Wanna fuck you,” Han says, voice husky, before moving to nibble the top of Lando’s ear.

Lando feels heat bloom in his gut. “Gotta go get the lube, baby,” Lando says and moves to stand off of the couch.

Han actually whines as Lando pushes him back, and if Lando weren’t so buzzed and turned on, he definitely would have given him shit for it. As it is, he simply rolls his eyes and stumbles as elegantly as he can into the captain’s quarters.

The lube should be in the top drawer of the dresser next to the bunk; that's where Lando always kept it, anyway, but he can’t seem to find it. He feels around in the drawer but comes up with everything besides lube and curses himself for not keeping some in the lounge. There’s cabinets right above the couch, why hadn’t he thought of that before?

Finally, he finds the lube on top of the dresser. It makes Lando’s body heat up to think about what Han must have been doing with it the last couple nights for it to end up there. Maybe he was even thinking of their little bet while he did it...

Lube in hand, Lando walks back into the lounge—not to the enticing sight of Han stroking his cock in anticipation, not even to a sly grin, or a cocky pose. No, Lando returns to find a drunken Han passed out on the couch, head lolled back at a ninety-degree angle, and spine slumped in a position that makes Lando’s back ache just looking at it. He’s even snoring a little, for stars’ sake.

Lando sighs. As irritated as he is, he knows he won’t let Han stay like that all night. He could choke on his own spit or something, and then where would Lando be? He’d have his ship back, he guesses, but then shakes his head. Though he’d never admit it aloud, Lando would choose Han Solo over the Falcon every time. Damn gully-rat has really weaseled his way under Lando’s skin.

More clumsily than Lando will admit to when he’s sober, he puts the lube in his pocket and moves to throw Han’s limp arm over his neck. With a grunt Lando hoists him up, Han’s head lolling to the side, only stirring him enough to grumble a bit.

Lando rolls his eyes and stumbles through the halls of the Falcon to the captain’s quarters with Han in tow. He’s pretty sure that Han’s hand not dangling from Lando’s neck is smacking against every doorway they enter, but if it’s bruised in the morning, that’s not Lando’s problem. _Serves him right_ , he thinks.

Finally, they reach the captain’s quarters and Lando pushes Han onto the bed as best he can. Shoving a fully grown human onto an elevated surface while buzzed isn’t the easiest thing in the galaxy, Lando will be the first to say it.

When Lando has Han shoved awkwardly into the far corner of the bunk, he pauses to catch his breath. He gives Han a glance-over and decides he’ll let him sleep in his vest and trousers, as uncomfortable as it must be. He does stop to pull off his boots, though. Even when it’s no longer his ship, Lando can’t bear to have shoes on the surfaces—his mom taught him better than that.

He tosses the shoes on the floor and does the same to his shirt and trousers, leaving on only his smallclothes. Suddenly exhausted, Lando crawls into bed beside Han and orders the lights out. Within minutes, they’re both snoring like Wookies.

***

Han awakens to the sound of soft snoring beside him, the uncomfortable press of too-thick trousers into his hip, and perhaps the driest mouth he’s ever had in his life. He groans low in his throat and turns his pounding head to see a mop of curly black hair beside him.

Han’s not sure how to feel about the fact that he’s not surprised to find himself in bed with Lando Calrissian. He supposes it’s been a long time coming, but stars, he hopes they didn’t do anything last night. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do anything with Lando—completely the opposite, in fact.

See, Han is afraid that Lando only feels the need to repay him for the other day, and that once they mess around again, that will be it for them. And Han’s fine with that. Definitely, totally fine with that. But he sure as hell wants to remember sex with Lando the next morning… and maybe for a while after that.

He would lay in the bunk and worry his lip over it, but he has to take a piss in a bad way. Besides, a dip in the ‘fresher and a swig of some Hemchar root would probably help his head to stop pounding, too. Han crawls awkwardly over Lando’s sleeping form, somehow, miraculously, without waking him. He pads into the ‘fresher and lets the steaming water roll down his back.

When he gets out and walks back into the captain’s quarters, Lando is sitting on the edge of the bed in a ridiculous silky robe, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Morning,” Han says, feeling suddenly unsure about himself. It’s his own quarters, on his own ship, he reminds himself irritably, and it does bolster his confidence a bit.

Lando hums a greeting and then yawns.

“So, about last night…” Han broaches, wincing at his own awkwardness.

“You can stop sweating, we didn’t do anything,” Lando says, finally meeting Han’s gaze. “Well, _you_ didn’t do anything— _I_ carried your ass to bed. Dunno why; I should have just left you to kill your neck on the couch.”

Relief floods Han. He tries to hide it as best he can, but Lando has known him too well for too long, by now, and he must notice. Lando’s gaze turns from mildly irritated to assessing in a flash. Han internally berates himself for his transparency—Qi’ra always used to say he wears his heart on his sleeve, and it’s true.

“‘Fresher’s all yours if you want it,” Han says to break the sudden silence between them.

“Saved some hot water for me, afterall?” Lando says, like he’s trying to salvage the now-awkward situation. “That’s sweet.” Without waiting for another word from Han, Lando stands and disappears into the bathroom.

Han, meanwhile, climbs back into bed wearing a clean shirt and some underwear. The sheets are warm where Lando had been laying, and if Han turns his face into the pillow to see if it smells like Lando, well, no one needs to know.

He can’t stop thinking about what Lando must be thinking. He’s probably thinking Han’s an idiot, probably thinking Han doesn’t care about him like that at all, that everything he does to flirt with him, all the looks he sneaks when he knows Lando is actually looking, are just for show.

Han knows what he himself is thinking: _I’m the biggest kriffing idiot in the galaxy_.

When Han hears the _swoosh_ of the bathroom door and Lando’s padding footsteps against the floor, he turns over in bed and is greeted to the sight of Lando in nothing but some loose black trousers. He can’t help but stare a second; Lando doesn’t usually let anyone see him without a carefully constructed outfit on, and it’s not like Han usually has opportunities to see him without his seemingly endless supply of capes, anyway.

Lando, of course, notices.

“Back to sleep?” he asks, moving to sit languidly on the mattress beside Han. “And here I was going to return the favor from the other day.” He says it with a mask of false certainty, one few beings would be able to see through. Han sees it, though. Lando’s testing the waters as casually as he knows how—teasingly, like it’s all a joke. It makes warmth bloom somewhere in Han’s chest and he decides to ignore it for how it scares him.

“No one ever said you couldn’t,” he says.

“Didn’t know you were into that, Han,” Lando says, pronouncing his name with a sharp ‘a’.

Han just rolls his eyes and shifts so he’s holding himself up with one hand on the bed. “So, what? You’re going to suck me off, too?” he says, aiming for casual and missing by a parsec.

Lando offers the most elegant shrug Han’s ever seen anyone make and says, “Could. Or we could fuck.”

The blunt way he says it takes Han off guard and he feels himself start to blush like a kriffing virgin. Despite the blood in his cheeks, though, plenty rushes to his dick at the suggestion.

“Like that, huh?” Lando laughs.

“You shut up,” Han scowls and points a finger at Lando’s hairy chest, which only makes Lando grin wider. “So how are we doing this?” Han asks.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, baby,” Lando says and leans toward Han’s ear. “I’m never on top.” His breath is hot and his voice is low. Han’s dick hardens in his underwear.

“I can work with that,” Han replies. He pulls Lando down by the back of his neck and moves so he’s straddling his thighs. Without hesitation, Han begins to mouth and lick down Lando’s chest, but Lando pushes him up before he can get very far.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lando tsks, “you misunderstand. I’m never on top, but I’m always in charge.”

Han thinks he must have the most ridiculous expression on his face, but Lando’s smirking and shooing him off his lap. Han watches as Lando slides off his trousers and then his underwear, to reveal his half-hard dick.

“Now,” Lando says, voice sultry and commanding, “you’re going to touch yourself while I open myself up. But you’re not going to come until I tell you you can. Square?”

Han feels himself swallow and he nods.

“Good. Now pass me the lube behind you.” Han reaches back for the bottle on the nightstand and hands it to Lando, who swiftly uncaps the lid and pours the liquid over his fingers. He looks at Han with an eyebrow raised. “Go on,” he commands. Han shifts to obey and takes off his underwear, far less suavely than he was aiming for.

He tosses his underwear somewhere on the floor of the captain’s quarters and scoots back on the mattress until he feels the frame at his still-clothed back. Facing Lando, he takes his cock in his hand and begins to stroke himself languidly, up and down. 

Apparently satisfied, Lando finally settles back on the headboard opposite Han. He tilts his head back and spreads his legs wide, like an actor in a kriffing holoporn. His gaze doesn’t leave Han’s body as he reaches between his legs to work half a finger inside himself. Han, stars be damned, groans aloud at the sight—legitimately groans—like he’s still a horny teen skulking around the slums of Corellia.

“Speed up, baby,” Lando says, voice still unwavering as ever, “I want a show.”

“Remind me why I’m taking orders from you?” Han asks, more out of the desire to take back some control of the situation than because he actually has a problem with it. He’s really enjoying this treatment more than he’d ever admit.

“Because, I see the way you look at me, sweetheart,” Lando says, sliding another finger in his hole. Han curses all the higher powers he doesn’t believe in as he blushes at the endearment. “You may have everyone else tricked, but I know you want someone to order you around.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

Han does as Lando says and speeds up the stroke of his palm against his cock, twisting on the upstroke each time, just the way he likes. Between the attention to his dick and the sight of Lando fucking his fingers in and out of himself, Han is embarrassingly close already. He distantly registers his breathing getting heavier and Lando must notice, too, because he says “stop” while staring directly into Han’s eyes. It’s like Lando used the kriffing Force or something equally bogus to still Han’s hand, he obeys so readily.

Han protests with a groan and a glare, but Lando simply smirks at him infuriatingly from across the bed. Somehow, Lando’s undeniably in control, even though he’s the one with his fingers up his ass. “I said you’re not allowed to come,” Lando says, as if Han weren’t fully aware of his instructions.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Han grumbles, still glaring. He doesn’t dare move his hand, though. Not until Lando gives him permission.

Lando, the kath hound, seems to want to be as infuriating as possible. _But_ , Han thinks, _what’s new_? Instead of letting Han keep going, Lando makes him sit, with his hand unmoving on his dick, and watch as he starts to properly fuck himself on his fingers.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Lando hums as he shifts to what Han can tell must be a more pleasurable angle. Honestly, it looks hotter, too, with Lando’s legs spread even wider than before; it’s obscene. Han can hear the wet sounds of Lando’s fingers working his hole and he has to bite his lip to keep from whimpering—he’s so kriffing hard.

Finally, Lando relents. “Touch yourself,” he orders, and Han begins palming his dick before Lando can even get out, “slowly this time.”

Han’s leaking all over his hand, and he uses the pre to smooth the glide of his palm across his cock. He doesn’t look away from Lando, imagining it’s _him_ spreading the man open on his fingers, imagining what it will feel like to press into his tight heat, remembering the sounds he made while Han was blowing him to the moons of Iego. Han’s thinking there’s not a lot he wouldn’t do to hear him make those noises again when Lando adds a third finger and moans entirely too unfairly.

“Shit,” Han breathes. “Need more.” He doesn’t dare speed up his movements without Lando’s permission, but he’s not about to beg, either. He’s hoping his complaining will do the trick.

Lando looks him over, gaze heated, and simply nods and says, “Alright.”

So, Han picks up the pace. He spreads his legs wider to match Lando’s stance and bumps his foot against Lando’s socked one. He jumps a little at the unexpected contact, then relaxes back against the bed frame as he pumps himself faster, yet not without finesse.

“Look at you, so ready to do everything I say,” Lando teases, and Han notices he’s stroking himself now, too.

Han tries to come up with something witty, but settles simply on “yeah, yeah,” when it’s clear his brain has stopped functioning. He’s starting to think his attempts at keeping his voice under control are failing, too. It’s just all so _much_. Lando’s gaze on him makes Han’s head spin. He wants to fuck Lando, to come undone at his will.

The crooks of Han’s knees are sweaty, and his breathing is coming out in rapid gasps. He’s so close, he needs to stop, but Lando hasn’t said anything. He feels the heat building and building in his core and—

“Stop,” Lando orders at the last second.

Han is somehow simultaneously relieved and so, so irritated. He whines, literally whines, as he takes his hand off of his leaking cock. The pleasure building moments ago is now slowly waning, but the hot feeling in his abdomen and cock still remain. He shifts in his spot on the bed and squeezes the base of his dick. “Lando…” he whines.

Lando looks at him with mischievous, arrogant light behind his eyes. Han notices, however, that he’s removed his fingers from his hole in favor of gripping the base of his dick. It makes a surge of pride flow through him.

“You’ve been so good for me, baby, doing everything I say,” Lando says, tone sultry, and kriff if that isn’t the best look on him—spread out, in control, cocky as hell… It drives Han wild. “You want to fuck me?”

Han’s eyes flutter shut in relief. “Kriff, Lando, yes,” he breathes out.

Lando opens his arms to beckon Han across the bunk, and Han wants nothing more in this moment than to obey. He shucks off his shirt, then crawls across the bed and straddles Lando’s thighs while his cock bobs between his own. Immediately, Han reaches behind himself for the lube and uncaps it, pouring some over his fingers. Lando, meanwhile, is laving his tongue over one of Han’s nipples. He’s never been overly-sensitive there, but the sight alone is enough to make a moan fall from Han’s lips.

Han wastes no time in lubing up his cock. When he’s finished, he pulls away from Lando’s mouth and asks, “Ready?” Lando seems surprised at first, pausing to look at him with a calculating expression. Han wracks his brain for what he could have done wrong, but then Lando smiles a little—one of his genuine smiles that makes Han’s heart flop over in his chest.

Not for the first time, Han thinks he wants to kiss him. This is undoubtedly the hardest time he’s had controlling himself from doing it, though. Because no matter what he wants, he’s sure this is just a fun fuck to Lando. And if that’s all he gets, then by the stars, he’ll take it.

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, sweetheart,” Lando says, obviously trying to regain his control. Han snorts, coming back to the moment, and rolls his eyes.

Finally, kriffing _finally_ , Han lines his cock up with Lando’s hole and pushes in to the tip. Lando feels incredible; Han can’t think of another word to describe it, and he’s not even anywhere near fully seated yet.

He holds himself there for a second, trying to let Lando adjust to his girth, but Lando, apparently, is in no mood for such precautions. Han feels hands on his ass, fingers digging in hard, and Lando pulls him towards his lap.

There’s a moment, then, in which Han is sure he’s going to come without warning and ruin everything. “ _Kriff_ ,” he shouts, eyes clenched tight in an effort to keep it together for just a little longer. “Warn a guy,” he complains, but Lando only exhales a laugh.

“Someone’s in control here, baby, and it’s not you.”

Han huffs. “As if I could forget,” he mutters.

“Then be a good boy and fuck me hard,” Lando orders, and if Han didn’t know he had  _that_ sort of kink before, he sure as hell does now.

Han doesn’t waste anymore time. He rests his forearms on either side of Lando’s head and begins to slide in and out of his tight heat, fucking him in earnest. He searches for Lando’s prostate, and hot pain laces down his back when he finds it as Lando rakes his nails across his skin. Han can feel sweat pooling on his shins where Lando’s ankles are entwined with his legs.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it,” Lando gasps, “just like that.”

Lando’s been making little noises of approval since Han first sunk into him, but now his gasps and moans sound entirely uninhibited, and it’s probably the hottest thing Han’s ever experienced. The knowledge that this person he cares about so much is feeling so good because of _him_ … it’s almost too much for Han to handle.

Han is so close, but he knows Lando won’t let him come until he does. He ignores the burn in his legs from exertion and reaches between their sweaty bodies to grab Lando’s leaking cock. He gathers the precome and uses it to make a wet tunnel for Lando to fuck into.

Lando doesn’t last long after that. He comes with a gasp that sounds suspiciously like Han’s name and shoots a stripe of come up Han’s hairy chest. Han fucks him through it, and it takes everything in him not to come with the way Lando’s body flutters tightly around his cock.

“Shit, I’m close,” Han groans as Lando gathers himself enough to open his eyes again. His sweaty bangs are falling into his eyes as he slams into Lando. “Please, Lando— _kriff_ —please let me come,” he pleads, all reservations about begging thrown out the airlock.

Lando’s gaze is half-lidded as he says “Come for me, baby.” He reaches up to wipe Han’s hair away from his face and plasters it behind his ear. It feels too intimate, and that’s all it takes before Han is coming harder than he ever has in his life.

When Han finally comes back to himself, Lando is running his fingers along his back where he left what Han knows must be bright red marks. It’s soothing. Han rests his head against Lando’s collarbone as their breathing calms down. He can feel his cock softening inside of Lando, and with a groan he sits up and pulls out.

Lando follows suit, propping himself up to lean against the headboard. Both men stare disdainfully at the mess they’ve made of the sheets. “You know,” Lando says, voice husky, “just this once, I’m glad these are your quarters now.”

Han laughs; he can’t help it, he’s so giddy. All of his limbs feel as if they’re floating through open space, and his chest feels too small to hold his sprawling heart. The combination of it all inspires Han to do what he does best: act without thinking.

He leans down to kiss Lando, and it’s only once their lips meet that Han realizes what he’s done. He pulls away almost immediately, stammering out a litany of ‘sorry’ and ‘shit.’ Han’s stomach feels like it’s fallen out of his body, and his face is burning like he’s just piloted the Falcon too close to a sun.

Lando, for his part, doesn’t look disgusted, or freaked out, or even irritated. In fact, he looks like he’s confused, if anything. “What the hell are you saying sorry for?” he asks. “I’ve been waiting for your idiot-ass to kiss me all along.”

Now it’s Han’s turn to look confused. “What? But I thought… thought this was, like, a ‘friends who fuck’ thing.”

The look Lando gives him makes Han feel like the biggest moron in the galaxy. Honestly, he probably is. “‘Friends who fuck,’” Lando deadpans, a look of realization dawning on his face. “You’re such a kriffing idiot.”

Han blushes in shame. “Look,” he says, “I never claimed to be the smartest guy around, just the most charismatic.”

“Clearly,” Lando shoots back. In a heartbeat Lando’s scowl turns into an incredulous laugh while he shakes his head. “Get over here and kiss me properly, Solo,” he says, and Han wouldn’t dream of disobeying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you SO much to everyone who commented on part 1. I had no intention of continuing this little PWP, but your support and encouragement motivated me to write this, as well. 
> 
> I hope it lived up to your expectations and didn't sound too much like a shitty dime-store porno fhhghf; I'd love to hear your thoughts. And I hope everyone had a stellar pride month!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎


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